LOVING ACP SIR - PART 2

Author's POV

Agathiyan stayed in the kitchen for a while, his thoughts heavy, pressing down on him like an unseen weight. When he finally stepped out, his eyes immediately went to the sofa, where his mother still sat, her head resting on her hand, eyes closed in exhausted half-sleep. Her elbow was propped against the armrest, but her body had begun to slip sideways, her head dangerously close to hitting the wooden edge. Instinctively, he stepped forward, ready to steady her. But before he could reach her, someone else did.

Aadhithya moved with practiced ease, catching her before she could fall. His motions were fluid, natural—like he had done this many times before. Agathiyan stopped in his tracks, watching for just a moment before exhaling and turning away. He made his way toward the side door, the one leading to the garden, the only space where he could escape the suffocating emotions clawing at his chest.

Just as his fingers brushed against the glass door handle, something held him back. He looked over his shoulder. Aadhi had handed their mother a glass of water, gently urging her to go to her room and rest. She shook her head, refusing, insisting she was fine. The familiarity of the moment settled deep in Agathiyan’s bones, a quiet ache creeping through him.

His mind took him years back.

Agathiyan could see it clearly—his five-year-old self, sitting by the doorway, legs swinging, waiting with quiet hope. His parents had promised they would come home early, take him shopping for his school’s sports day event. He had believed them, held onto their words like they were unbreakable. But they hadn’t come. Everyone had tried to convince him, offering to take him instead, but he refused. He waited, watching the clock, forcing himself to stay awake, determined not to miss the moment they walked in. But exhaustion won, and he fell asleep right where he sat.

Midnight—that was when they finally returned. They were drained, carrying the weight of the day in their faces. Aadhiran had attended an emergency—an accident case. Innisai had stayed back as well, assisting in the overwhelming number of patients who needed care. Despite everything, they had brought him what he asked for—a bag filled with every item on his list. But they hadn’t woken him. They had only come to leave the things behind, slipping away again once they saw him sound asleep.

The next morning, he woke in an empty bed. The bag was there. Not them. He didn’t complain. Didn’t throw a tantrum. He had been told—his parents had returned, had left him the things he wanted, and had gone back to work. That was enough. From that moment on, something inside him shifted.

He stopped asking for things. Stopped complaining. Stopped expecting.

Magilan and Tisya were the only ones he informed about his decisions, the only ones he sought permission from. Not because he needed their approval, but because they were elders, and it was his duty. He never disrespected anyone, but that didn’t mean he listened to them either. His words came more easily with Magilan and Tisya—not because he was supposed to, but because they had been present in his life in a way his parents never had. His parents had always felt like guests.

Aadhiran had spent years building the hospital, expanding it, working on his super-specialty, and completing his rural service in distant villages. At that time, Agathiyan had only been two years old, too young to understand why his father wasn’t there. And because Aadhiran had been away, managing the hospital had fallen on Innisai’s shoulders. She had been just as busy, always working. The elders had raised him, believing it was the best choice. And maybe, in some ways, it had been.

But that longing-the quiet ache—never left.

Blinking, Agathiyan shook himself from the past, the weight of old memories settling deep into his chest. His fingers tightened around the door handle for a brief second. Then, without another glance, he pushed it open and stepped into the cool night air.